


When it rains, I think of you

by foxkillskat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuaka - Freeform, Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, University Student Akaashi Keiji, mid-time skip so maybe canon compliant?!, no beta we die like daichi, short and sweet and sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxkillskat/pseuds/foxkillskat
Summary: When it rains, Keiji thinks of Bokuto.  And lately it seems the rain will never end.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	When it rains, I think of you

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall, foxkillskat here with some sappy BokuAka to bring some light to yer grey, rainy days.
> 
> —stop for a moment— 
> 
> take yer hood off, put the umbrella down, and tilt yer head back. feel the rain and everythin else with it, and know, when it rains, someone out there is thinkin of you

For the fifth day in a row, it’s raining. There’s no sudden downpour or flash of lightning or flood of water filling the streets. No — this is a different kind of rain, a persistent drizzle from a grey sky weighing down, down, down on everyone and everything it touches.

Keiji watches from the window of his dorm room as people cloaked in raincoats and hiding beneath umbrellas come and go. Some walk alone, hurriedly, and others take their time, sharing the shelter of an umbrella with another. Not a single one of them stops to look up at the sky.

Keiji sighs and taps his fingers against the unfinished paper he is supposed to be writing. He’s supposed to have been writing it all week, and yet he has a total of two measly paragraphs. How is he supposed to focus on schoolwork when all he can do is think of Bokuto? 

Over a month has passed since Keiji saw him last, and every time he does, Bokuto burns brighter and brighter. So much so, Keiji has a hard time looking him in the face. He’s playing pro now, as he should, and he’s having the time of his life. Keiji watches the happenings — the games, the interviews, the press photoshoots and ad campaigns — and he can’t help but find it bittersweet. Not because he wishes to be in Bokuto’s place, but because he wishes they were at least in a closer place. There are too many kilometers, too many hours, too many words left unspoken between them. Lost, like the stars in this oppressive sky.

When it rains, Keiji thinks of Bokuto. And lately it seems the rain will never end.

The streetlamps come on, day meeting night, and Keiji leaves his paper unfinished, a metaphor for everything else in his life. He leaves his raincoat on the hook and his umbrella in the stand. He leaves the bustling dorm, the pulsing music of Friday night parties, the excited chattering of their prospective attendees, the yelling and cheering and crying of those already in too deep. Keiji leaves it all behind to step out into the grey.

The air is thick and wet, pressing on all parts of him as he crosses the street to the courtyard. His unruly hair is flattening, his legs are growing heavy, and every single step feels like another kilometer between him and his watching window. By the time he reaches the bench, all he can do is slump down into the puddle collected on its seat. All he can think about is the last time he sat in this exact spot, the first time Bokuto visited him in this place.

They spent that day exploring campus together, Keiji discovering things he never thought to find in the months prior. Not about the grounds, but about his best friend, his idol, his star. So much of his high school days were spent watching, thinking, then overthinking again and again until he thought he knew it all. Maybe at one point he did. But that’s the thing about people: they stop things, they start things, they pause one thing to pick up another. The only constant is change.

Bokuto changed. He was still loud, overly excitable, having a blast and making the world his own. But he was quiet, too, at moments where it was least expected, for moments longer than expected. He was thinking things through. 

While Keiji wasn’t watching, Bokuto stopped being a child and became an adult. A man. And this man, this idol, this star paused his life as Keiji’s best friend to pick up a new one: a life where they might be something more.

They sat on this same bench that day and everything was different. When the dark clouds rolled in and Keiji pulled up his hood to shield his head from the rain, Bokuto didn’t. He leaned back, neck exposed and eyes turned toward the sky. In that moment he was powerful and steady and prepared, and in that moment Keiji was weak with realization that not only the physical distance between them had grown.

Keiji could no longer reach him; he was too far behind, too uncertain and unprepared for that something more.

Even now, as the steady drizzle pinpricks his shirt and his pants and his skin, Keiji can’t bring himself to look up. He looks at the ground instead. He looks at the worm inching along the pavement, dodging puddles left and right. He looks at the splash made by a passing car and a deep pool, the way it arcs and crashes like an ocean wave. He looks at the grey sneakers cutting through it all, headed his way.

A voice is yelling his name. A voice straight from his imagination.

Keiji squints. Then shakes his head. Then squints again, wishing, out of all the things he left behind, he hadn’t left his glasses.

“Bokuto-san?” he asks, even though there’s no way. This wouldn’t be the first time his daydreams blended with reality in the impending dark.

“What are you doing out here?” Bokuto comes to a halt in front of him, panting, hands holding tight to his knees. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Keiji needs proof. He’s reaching out without realizing it, he’s touching one of those hands and —

oh god

— Bokuto is here. Bokuto is within reach.

Keiji rips his hand back, afraid. “What are you doing here?”

“I already told you!” Bokuto sits down next to him, pressed to him from their shoulders to their shoes. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“No, I meant here here,” Keiji clarifies. “In Tokyo. At my school.”

“Oh.” 

The silence is filled with rain, and it seems like it will never end.

“I missed you,” Bokuto finally answers, and Keiji can’t comprehend, refuses to accept why these three words they’ve said to each other a million times took him so long.

“I missed you too, Bokuto-san,” he says to the puddles at their feet.

“No, I meant missed missed,” Bokuto clarifies.

Keiji can’t say a word for so long.

Bokuto leans back, neck exposed and eyes turned toward the sky. “We’ve been here before.”

They have, and Keiji has been here ever since. Lost.

“I still don’t know what to do,” he admits. “I’m still not prepared.”

Bokuto laughs, easy. “Look up, Akaashi!”

Keiji looks at him instead. He looks at his idol, his star, his best friend. He looks at an adult. A man. He looks at Bokuto and he’s right there, within reach.

Keiji presses a kiss to his cheek like they could be something more. 

“Whoah.” Bokuto’s voice is quiet, but his smile is big enough to light the sky, to lift its weight up, up, up and bring color to the grey.

“I love the rain,” Keiji says to the water running down Bokuto’s face.

“I love the rain too.” Bokuto’s hand finds his. “It helps me think things through.” 

Their fingers intertwine close and tight as to never be lost again, and Keiji is certain now; he is prepared to face the sky, to feel it all. 

He’s changed. They both have, together. And together they are something more.

“When it rains” —Keiji throws his head back— “I think of you.”


End file.
